The following morning's Daily Prophet exploded across the wizarding world like a bomb.
"The Boy-Who-Lived Attacked at Gringotts!"
"Dumbledore's Personally Acknowledged Disciple — Lucas Summers!"
"Shock! Eleven-Year-Old Wizard Crushes Entire Auror Squad!"
"Harry Potter Nearly Assassinated Inside Gringotts!"
"Gringotts Refuses to Comment on Security Failure!"
"Ministry Under Fire After Auror Embarrassment!"
"Minister Fudge Issues Urgent Public Statement!"
Every newspaper in Britain seemed determined to scream the story from the rooftops.
Lucas himself had absolutely no interest in becoming famous.
Unfortunately, there had simply been too many witnesses.
First came the battle beneath Gringotts.
Then Dumbledore spent the entire day openly escorting him and Harry around Diagon Alley.
And finally—
Kassandra's Howler had publicly detonated inside the Leaky Cauldron.
At that point, secrecy became physically impossible.
Now the entire British wizarding world knew the name Lucas Summers.
An eleven-year-old child who fought off a Dark wizard inside Gringotts.
A genius who supposedly would've captured the attacker personally if the Aurors hadn't interfered.
A terrifying prodigy who then proceeded to flatten the Auror squad surrounding him.
People simply couldn't believe it.
Until another rumour spread.
Dumbledore himself had personally trained Lucas.
More importantly—
The Headmaster never denied that Lucas was effectively his own disciple.
Suddenly, the impossible became understandable.
After all, if the greatest wizard of the century personally taught someone, wasn't overwhelming talent only natural?
Meanwhile, inside Hogwarts—
Dumbledore sat happily inside the Headmaster's Office while eating lemon sherbets.
Lucas had given him an enormous bag of sweets before leaving Diagon Alley, and the old wizard's mood had remained suspiciously excellent ever since.
Across the room, Snape stood beside the desk like an enormous thundercloud.
"Severus," Dumbledore said mildly, "I believe Lucas's suspicions should now be largely cleared."
Snape merely grunted softly.
Dumbledore continued cheerfully.
"Harry Potter remains unharmed. The Philosopher's Stone remains unharmed. And Mr Summers openly risked his life protecting both."
Snape's expression remained colder than the Black Lake in winter.
"That only proves he has no direct connection to the Dark Lord," he said quietly. "It does not mean I trust him."
Dumbledore sighed.
"Severus…"
"I still believe the boy is dangerous," Snape interrupted coldly. "Even if he serves no connection to Voldemort, that does not eliminate another possibility."
His dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
"He could become the next Dark Lord instead."
Dumbledore looked amused rather than offended.
"Well," he said lightly, "that merely means we must guide him properly once he arrives at Hogwarts."
Then the old wizard smiled warmly.
"Surely educating students away from dangerous paths is part of our responsibility as professors?"
Snape snorted.
"I only hope his ridiculous monster-sized ego hasn't already been inflated beyond repair."
Then his voice became dripping with sarcasm.
"Dumbledore's disciple," he mocked coldly. "Wonderful. Why not attach a giant glowing sign above his head while we're at it?"
Dumbledore placed a hand dramatically over his chest.
"Oh dear. Such suspicion towards a harmless old man."
Snape ignored him completely.
"In any case," he said flatly, "I'll keep watching him carefully."
Then suddenly, Snape stepped forwards and dropped several potion bottles onto Dumbledore's desk.
Rare potions.
Expensive ones.
Even a small vial of Elixir sat among them.
"These are surplus supplies," Snape said stiffly. "Useless to me. Do whatever you want with them."
After finishing, he spun around sharply.
His black robes billowed dramatically behind him like enormous bat wings.
Right before leaving the office, Dumbledore suddenly spoke again.
"Keep an eye on Quirrell, Severus."
Snape paused slightly.
"He recently returned from Albania," Dumbledore continued quietly. "And lately… he has behaved strangely."
Snape gave a small nod without turning around before finally leaving the office entirely.
The room fell silent.
Dumbledore glanced down at the expensive potion ingredients and sighed helplessly.
He understood perfectly.
Snape was indirectly expressing gratitude to Lucas for protecting Harry.
Protecting Lily Potter's son.
Just as Dumbledore prepared to store the potions away, the office door burst open again.
Professor McGonagall marched inside looking furious.
Dumbledore immediately sighed in defeat.
"Oh dear," he murmured weakly. "I suppose this is about Lucas."
"Of course it's about Lucas!" McGonagall snapped sharply. "You allowed an eleven-year-old child to retrieve dangerous objects from Gringotts!"
Dumbledore raised both hands peacefully.
"Yes, yes, you were correct. I admit it."
McGonagall looked utterly unconvinced.
"Lucas may possess extraordinary talent," she continued sternly, "but he's still only eleven years old!"
Then her voice softened slightly.
"We cannot allow children like that to die before they even walk through Hogwarts' gates."
Meanwhile, the child in question remained completely unconcerned about his growing fame.
Lucas genuinely didn't care what strangers thought about him.
So during the remaining month before Hogwarts began, he focused almost entirely on system tasks and long-term plans.
Thanks to his efforts, Hermione and Harry became friends much earlier than in the original timeline.
The contract with Lucas also forced the Dursleys to improve Harry's living conditions dramatically.
Harry finally moved out of the cupboard beneath the stairs.
Compared to his old life, Privet Drive now practically felt luxurious.
More importantly, Harry's new bedroom gradually transformed into a small secret base shared between the three of them.
Harry.
Hermione.
Lucas.
They spent time together constantly throughout the summer.
Sometimes Lucas helped Hermione with difficult homework.
Sometimes he advised Harry about preparing for Potions class.
Though naturally, Lucas himself never bothered studying properly.
More often than not, however, Lucas simply told stories.
Stories about the wizarding world.
Stories about the first war.
Stories about Voldemort before his fall.
On one particular afternoon, after finishing another story involving Death Eater attacks and magical murders, the room gradually fell quiet.
Harry sat silently on the bed.
Hermione looked disturbed.
Then Lucas suddenly asked calmly:
"Harry… Voldemort murdered your parents."
His voice remained quiet and steady.
"He and his followers killed countless people."
Lucas looked directly at Harry.
"So tell me honestly."
A strange darkness flickered briefly within his eyes.
"Do you hate them?"
....
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